


Okay, Pick Up Your Pencils

by Colette_Capricious



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s04e17 It's a Terrible Life, First Time, M/M, Misuse of Office Supplies, Swesson, bottom!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 18:49:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/929867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Colette_Capricious/pseuds/Colette_Capricious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Might as well go out with a bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay, Pick Up Your Pencils

**Author's Note:**

> Dean wasn't sure how it happened, but somehow he'd ended up on top of his desk, hands strapped to the legs, naked from the waist down, but tie still firmly in place. Sam Wesson's mouth was a fucking furnace as he slid it down Dean's dick. When Sam's unbelievable pink lips touched the crinkly hair at the base, Dean shouted a curse. In a flash, Sam shoved a pencil between Dean's lips and told him to bite. 

"Fuck, Dean," Sam panted against his thigh. "You want people to come running in here?" Dean’s thigh jumped under Sam’s mouth, and he laughed darkly at Dean’s hitched breath. “Oh, you do, don’t you?” He turned his head and bit at the muscles running down the inside of Dean’s thigh. When Dean whined around the pencil, Sam licked up the crease of Dean’s leg and down to his balls. “Shhh,” he whispered, pushing Dean’s legs wider. He looked up at Dean though the V of his legs. Dean thought his smile was almost certainly illegal in some places, or at the very least a controlled substance. 

Sam’s finger ghosted up the crack of Dean’s ass, flicking lightly over his hole. Dean’s teeth sunk just the smallest amount into the soft wood of the pencil. “You want those drones on the other side of the door to see this? See you spread out and tied to your desk? Hmmm?” Sam dragged his tongue up the underside of Dean’s cock, hands firmly on Dean’s thighs, forcing them to stay open. He closed him mouth over the tip, lips locked just under the head, and flicked his tongue back and forth quickly across the tip.

Dean’s forced a strangled yell out around the pencil. Sam’s weight on his thighs prevented him from thrusting deep into that wet heat, down that fucking gorgeous throat, and feeling those smooth muscles choke on his cock. Sam smacked him sharply on the inside of his thigh. Dean groaned as the bright pain turned into a wave of pleasure as it traveled up his dick. 

Sam slid his hands down Dean’s thighs to the back of his knees. Pushing gently but firmly, he shoved Dean’s knees up towards his shoulders, rolling his hips up just off the desk. The muscles of his bound arms pulled against his shoulders but nothing quite hurt right now. Dean thrashed his head back and forth as Wesson’s soft hair dragged like silk across his skin. He shuddered from head to toe as Sam’s breath blew cool against the tight skin of his opening. “Fuck, Dean,” Sam whispered reverently. “You just feel everything, don’t you?” 

Sam stood up, looming over Dean, hands still on the other man’s knees. His stare burned into Dean’s eyes and Dean lost the plot for a moment there, feeling Sam’s cock pressed against his, hard edges of his jeans sliding against Dean’s skin, and watching Sam’s kaleidoscope eyes shift from brown to green to blue and back again. He came back to the ache in his shoulders and Sam’s voice like bubbling brown sugar in his ear.

“Anyone could come in. I didn’t lock the door.” Sam bit the inside of Dean’s knee. “They’d see you, legs up in the air, my face between them. But they wouldn’t be able to see me tongue-fucking you.” Dean whimpered, his cock jumping up against Sam’s. Sam moaned and ground his hips down against Dean. “Fuck, Dean. Felt fucking sexy.” Sam lazily rolled his hips into Dean’s, “Do it again.” Their cocks were rubbing together, Sam’s balls dragged out sparks of sensation where they pressed against Dean. Dean’s cock could cut diamonds and he tried as best he could – bent in half by Sam’s weight, arms twisted at his side – to thrust into Sam. Sam’s breathing was deep and heavy as he thrust against Dean, they were both hard and wet now, the stick and slide and catch of delicate skin tripping between pain and pleasure. Dean could feel Sam’s hands trembling on the backs of his thighs, feel the shuddering of his shoulders under Dean’s knees. They shouldn’t be this close, this soon. Dean was seconds away from shooting just from the look on Sam’s face. Dean couldn’t look away and from the way Sam’s eyes bored into his, he wasn’t alone in this. Who was this kid? Dean’s chest rose and fell quickly with the strength of his breath. He was grateful for the pencil clenched between his teeth that kept in the porn-star moans he could feel trying to get out trapped in his throat. His tongue flicked out, licking his lips and curling around the pencil. 

Sam gave a wordless yell and thrust erratically against Dean. “Fuck. _Dean_ ,” he whispered, letting Dean’s legs slide from his shoulders. The way he said his name sent shivers down Dean’s back, and his head fell back, eyes closing. He felt Sam lean down over him, pressing them together chest to thigh. He could feel Sam’s heart thundering against his chest, pounding with his. One hand slide around the back of Dean’s head, tilting it back up as Sam slid the pencil out from between his lips. “Your fucking _mouth_ ,” Sam breathed before slamming his mouth over Dean’s. 

Kissing barely began to describe what Sam was doing to Dean. He traced Dean’s lips with his tongue, bit at them until they were red and swollen. A finger into the hinge of Dean’s jaw and his mouth was opening. Sam fucked down into his mouth, again and again, his tongue taking possession of Dean’s, plunging into it in rhythm to the shallow thrusts of Sam’s hips against his. Dean jerked his hands hand against the silk ties strapping his hands down, desperate to get that fucking hideous yellow shirt off of Sam and get his hands on the rock hard muscles he could feel pressed against him. His head strained up against Sam’s mouth, trying to get deeper, more. Sam’s hand on the back of his head pushed them together as his other hand clenched around Dean’s shoulder. Black specks sparkled in the edges of Dean’s vision and he had a brief thought that oxygen would be good now, but not good enough to stop. 

Sam’s tongue was invading Dean’s mouth over and over, and his hands were so big, and his body so solid against Dean. Dean felt his cock jump against their bodies, and his balls were tight against his body, hips rocking mindlessly now. He was going to come from Sam kissing him, right now, with Sam’s mouth and hands and hips and chest all over him, surrounded by Sam. Come and pass out, hopefully in that order.  
He wailed, honest-to-god wailed, as Sam suddenly yanked himself away with a groan. “Fucking hell, Dean. God, Dean.” Sam panted like a freight train. Dean could see the muscle in his arm working as Sam clamped down on the base of his dick. Dean’s cock jerked wildly and he breathed deep, trying to stave off his orgasm. Sam looked up at Dean, eyes wild, lower lip between his teeth, and sweat dripping down the curve of his jaw, down his neck. Keeping his eyes locked on Dean, he reached his hand up and ripped off his shirt with one motion.

“Fuck me,” Dean whispered like a prayer as Sam’s perfectly muscled torso was revealed. “Fucking hell.” As much as he didn’t want to, Dean closed his eyes. Fuck kissing, he was going to come from just _looking_ at Sam. He opened them again as the felt Sam move from between his legs. Before he could complain, Sam was at his shoulder, bent down, fingers fumbling to untie Dean’s hands. “Oh thank god,” Dean said.

He could hear Sam mumbling, mouthing up and down Dean’s neck, his ear, his temple, as Sam rubbed feeling back into Dean’s hand. “Gotta fuck you, Dean,” he was whispering over and over. “Please. God, say it’s okay.” He moved behind Dean, Dean’s free hand reaching in vain for him as he bent to the other wrist. Dean felt Sam’s mouth on his palm, on the inside of his wrist. Sam’s lips were still moving, forming words against Dean’s body. With a groan, Dean wrenched his body onto its side and grabbed at Sam’s hair, pulling him up as the last tie slid to the ground. He pulled Sam back to his mouth. This time it was his tongue invading Sam as Sam lifted and slid Dean upright, pulling him forward until Dean was sitting on the edge of the desk, legs bracketing Sam’s body. Sam scrabbled at the tie around Dean’s neck, yanking it free without breaking the kiss. His fingers fumbled at the buttons of Dean’s shirt as Dean ran his hands up and down and around Sam’s torso, feeling every one of those amazing muscles. He whimpered as Sam pulled away long enough to yank the shirt off Dean’s arms and shove those fugly khakis to the ground.

Dean straight-armed Sam as he moved in to grab Dean. Sam was a fucking work of art and Dean needed to look. He pushed Sam gently back and slid off the desk then stood in front of Sam, staring. He reached out, trailing his hand gently, reverently, down the muscles. He put his palms flat on Sam’s chest, feeling Sam’s heartbeat and breath. Dean watched himself as he slipped his thumb down the cut of Sam’s hipbones, fingers curling back over his hips. Sam took a ragged inhale as Dean’s fingers trailed down to his cock. Dean ran a finger so lightly up the underside. It was gorgeous, perfect like the rest of Sam. Big, rock hard, and uncut. Dean couldn’t take his eyes off it. As Dean licked his lips, already imaging the feel of it in his mouth, against his tongue.He heard Sam groan, then Sam’s giant hand cupped the back of Dean’s head, forcing him to look up.

Sam’s eyes were almost black with arousal and Dean knew he must look the same. “Jesus, Dean. I have to…You gotta let me…” Sam grabbed Dean’s hips in a bruising grip and slammed their bodies together. “Gonna fuck you,” Sam growled into his ear. 

Dean wound his fingers in Sam’s hair and pulled his head back to make eye contact. “Lock the door.” Sam just looked at him, no comprehension in his eyes. Dean pulled tighter on his hair, rocking Sam’s head back and forth with each word. “Lock.” He bit Sam’s lower lip. “The.” He licked up Sam’s throat. “Fucking.” He sucked hard at the base of his neck. “Door.” He pulled his mouth away and pinched one of Sam’s nipples hard.

“Door. Right.”

Dean laughed as Sam scrambled away. The laugh died as Sam turned around and stalked over to Dean. Dean’s eyes raked over Sam’s body, lingering on his cock, his abs, that mouth. Sam’s eyes were dark, his mouth quirked as he slid his hands up Dean’s side. Dean moaned as Sam lifted him up and sat him back on the desk. It was unbelievably hot how strong Sam was.

“Tell me you have something,” Sam demanded as his long fingers finally finally wrapped around Dean’s cock. 

“Top draw. Hand cream,” Dean panted out as he thrust against Sam’s hand, precome sliding down his cock, easing the way. Sam pushed Dean flat on the desk, hand firmly attached to his dick, and he lay across Dean, long arms pulling open the top draw and flailing around as he kissed the air out of Dean’s luck. Dean’s eyes rolled up under his closed eyelids and he took a brief moment to appreciate Sam’s multitasking skills.

“Got it!” Sam crowed, pulling himself back up with a quick bite at Dean’s lips. Dean pushed himself up on his elbows, saw Sam’s wry smile at the metal tube of organic, hemp handcream. “Better than nothing,” Dean shrugged. “Yuppie,” Sam commented, opening the tube.

“Yuppie who can’t wait to get his mouth on that gorgeous dick of yours.” Dean smiled at Sam’s full-body shudder. “Now are you going to fuck me or comment some more on my shopping habits?”

Sam’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip. “Oh, I’m going to fuck you, don’t worry.” He stepped between Dean’s legs and with a hand on each knee, spread them apart. 

Dean watched as Sam slicked up his fingers, then laid back down, drawing his legs up more. He held his breath as he felt Sam’s finger breech him. God, it felt good, but nowhere near enough. “More, c’mon. Give me more.” The quick push of a second finger punched the breath out of him. “Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his hips, trying to get deeper. He felt like he’d been hard forever and he if didn’t come soon, he was going to scream, or cry, or fire someone.

“Jesus, Dean,” Sam moaned. “You’re just opening up for me, sucking me in.” He thrust in and up, scraping fingertips across Dean’s prostate. Dean cursed loudly. Sam looked around, reaching with his free hand for something out of Dean’s line of sight. A laugh died in Dean’s throat as Sam leaned down, dark-eyed, and rolled the pencil over Dean’s parted lips. “You think I’ll need that?” Dan asked, trying for smug but landing on desperate.

Sam nodded, “Oh yeah.” He slid the pencil between Dean’s lips. “I’m going make you scream,” he promised and thrust a third finger in with a slide and a twist that had Dean’s hips rocketing off the table. Dean grabbed up to Sam’s shoulders for the ride.

He kept up the vicious pace, moaning and cursing under his breath, winding Dean higher and higher until one perfectly place thrust against that sparking place inside Dean made Dean bite down so hard the pencil shattered in his mouth. He spit out the pencil pieces and shoved Sam up by the shoulders. “Fucking fuck me, you fucker or you’re fucking fired.”

Sam laughed out loud. “You’re the boss,” he said, shoving one of Dean’s legs up and out and guiding his cock to Dean with the other. “Ready?”

“God, Sam.”

Sam pushed in slowly but steadily. Dean felt it, thick and hard and relentless, sliding in deep until Sam’s groin rested against the curve of Dean’s ass. They stayed still for a moment, Dean felt Sam throbbing inside him. Sam had been hard as long as Dean had. This wasn’t going to last long, but god it was going to be good. Dean could admit he was a bit of a size queen, and Sam was big all over.

Dean exhaled as Sam slid slowly most of the way back out, leaving the tip in, holding Dean open. Sam squeezed some more hand lotion over himself. Hissing at the feel of his fingers spreading it. “Fuck, Dean.” He slid back in harder and Dean grunted. “Not gonna last long,” Sam admitted.

Dean rolled his hips down, fucking Sam and trying to get him deeper. “Me neither,” he grunted, wrapping his arm around Sam’s neck and pulling him down for a deep kiss. The change of angle forced Sam’s dick into the perfect position and Dean yelled into Sam’s mouth. One last searing kiss and he pulled away from Sam’s plush mouth. He grabbed onto the edge of the desk, wrapped his legs around Sam’s back and said, “Now, please. _Please_ , for the love of God, fuck me hard.”

As if that was what Sam had been waiting for, he grabbed Dean’s shoulders and just started pounding into him. Dean got lost in the feeling of Sam fucking deep inside, the rhythmic squeak of the desk as is slide incrementally across the floor, the pressure of fingers digging deep into Dean’s shoulders and hips and sides as Sam scrambled for purchase on Dean’s body. Sweat from Sam’s forehead dripped down onto Dean and then Sam threw Dean’s legs over his shoulders and straightened up, lifting Dean’s lower body clean off the table.

Dean almost choked on a strangled yell. Sam grabbed Dean’s cock and jerked it just the right side of rough, and thrust hard into Dean. Dean’s orgasm exploded out of him, and his cock jumped in Sam’s hand, pulsing, painting white across Dean’s stomach and chest. “Dean!” Sam yelled, and slammed home a final time, hands clenched around Dean’s thighs. The feel of Sam coming inside him forced an almost-painful aftershock out of Dean.

Dean’s laugh was shaky, but real. “Well, I guess that was less than subtle.” 

Sam looked puzzled as he gently slid Dean’s legs down, kissing them as he did. “What do you mean?” he asked, pulling Dean in for a surprisingly gentle kiss. Dean wrapped his arms around Sam’s waist, pushed his head into those amazing ab muscles. “Listen,” he said.

Dean looked up into Sam’s face, smiling as Sam tilted his head like a dog, laughing as Sam caught the sound of claps and catcalls coming from outside the locked door. His blush went all the way down his chest, Dean noticed.

“Oh, god,” Sam groaned. “We’re going to get fired.”

Dean turned his head into Sam’s stomach and kissed and nipped at the skin there, hands smoothing down Sam’s back and perfect ass. “Nah,” he scoffed. “We’re going to quit.”

Sam ran a hand through Dean’s hair. “Really?”

Dean looked up. Sam sounded so hopeful and so unsure. Dean licked a path up Sam’s chest, bit gently at a nipple. Sam gasped. Dean gave a wicked smile he was pretty sure he’d never used before. “Really, really. We’ve some ghost ass to kick, right?”

Sam laughed out loud and cradled Dean’s head his hands, bending down to kiss him. “Damn straight.”


End file.
